


The Delicate Edge

by booktick



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Denial, Desperation, Episode: s11e16 Goodbye Farewell and Amen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Self-Denial, sad man bj hunnicutt found at post op
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 03:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17134271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: "It's not goodbye." He kept his mouth full of sandwich and regret."It is goodbye. Say goodbye." Hawk had pushed, eyes searching him for something BJ felt he could never give, "What's the big deal? Just say goodbye."





	The Delicate Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

Goodbye, _goodbye_. Goodbye! The damn word made him sick to his stomach. The scream deep in his belly tossed and turned but would never catch up to his tongue as he snapped at Hawk. Damn goodbyes, damn Pierce and damn the war. He refused to give Hawk what he wanted and if he just focused on keeping himself busy for the new couple of hours he wouldn't have to think about it. That was for future BJ to grieve and be angry for. No, not now. He refused. He wouldn't think about it.

But he did.

BJ had grabbed a handful of sandwiches and approached the man he had only known for such a short time, far too short, and tried small talk. He figured Hawk was still mad at him. He knew very well what that Trapper Yawn had done. But hadn't he left without a note too? Maybe Trapper had been in a similar position. Maybe Trapper felt like shit for it too. Yet there he stumbled over to one mentally and physically worn Benjamin Franklin Pierce with his only offerings he could scrounge up: his love and baloney.

He didn't know which was worst.

Hawk looked at him though,  _God did Hawk look_ , and he just couldn't. He had no intention of saying what he knew was coming, what Hawk wanted, what Hawk insisted upon. The word scraped along his insides, trying to get something out of him in the last moments of his time in here, and it was just one more open wound he'd carry home.

No goodbyes. Goodbye means permanent. Goodbye means...

"It's not goodbye." He kept his mouth full of sandwich and regret.

"It is goodbye. Say goodbye." Hawk had pushed, eyes searching him for something BJ felt he could never give, "What's the big deal? Just say goodbye."

It was a big deal! Why did they have to say it? They were both going...home. They both knew that. There were only so many hours left, most would be in the OR and Hawkeye wanted him to say it. Why couldn't they just...be? Peg had written several times about wanting to meet the Great Hawkeye Pierce, the Fascinating Hawkeye Pierce who took her husband up by the bootstraps and held on until neither could breath or cry. What was he supposed to do now?

And then Hawk has the gall to start talking about death, about his death, and that nearly has BJ come undone then and there. He buckles only for a breaths, shooting up from his seat and fixing Hawk with the nastiest stare he can spare. The pain written all to well over his face, both of their faces if he were honest. It's the same face he saw on Hawk's back at...back at Sidney's. 

No goodbyes. How could Hawkeye even think that...

No, no, he would just go to surgery. And he did, it filled his mind almost completely. If Hawkeye wasn't Hawkeye, it would have been enough to distract him. But when he looked across the room he could see him. He could see him and he could see Sidney watching them both. BJ would avert his eyes, focus on the patient under his hands and it'd be okay. For a while...

Then it would come creeping back. That tension in his neck would go to his shoulders. He would forget for a moment why the word was so hard to say. He never expected to say it, to have to say it, he supposed. Yes, he knew the war would end...eventually. Damn it, Hawkeye was his right arm and Peg was his left. He couldn't just go home with one arm and the cold.

All the time he had spent with his best friend...all the times they held onto each other and howled in laughter and tears. God, he couldn't even imagine Hawk not being in his life. He had a similar reaction not too long ago, when Hawk went in his place to the front. This time he wouldn't have makeshift sutures as a sign that his friend was okay. No, now he was alone in the back room of Post Op ready to burst into tears over a surgeon. 

 _Benjamin Franklin Pierce_. Hawkeye...

"Everything alright, BJ?" A voice asks from behind.

He half expects Sidney to be there. But when he turns, it's Charles. Of all people. Winchester looks half dead, a worn smile that doesn't meet the eyes and bags that hang low under those same eyes. BJ turned to fully face the fellow doctor, his hands shoved into his pockets. Blood still on his jacket. The OR has finally calmed, if one can call  _that_ calm.

"Oh," his eyebrows raise for a moment but he finds himself nodding, " _Sure_." The word doesn't feel warm but it doesn't feel cold either. It's just one word, like goodbye. 

"Right." Charles nodded in return, an understanding perhaps.

"So," small talk in these circumstances feels almost insulting, "You're headed back to Boston, huh? Your parents excited?"

Charles sat upon the bench against the wall, his eyes close for a moment and BJ immediately knows that feeling. He sat down beside him and shut his eyes in a similar way. Two doctors walk into Korea, sounded like a bad joke. He opened his eyes and looked at Charles, ended up having a staring contest in tense silence. It takes everything in BJ to break the silence.

"I rang up Peg," he says softly, "She cried. She's relieved I guess."

"And Pierce?" Charles speaks just as hushed, "How is he fairing?"

BJ laughs but no humor is found in this situation. He tore his eyes away from Charles' to look at his feet, the same feet Hawk always joked about. He shyly bumps his shoes together, a lot like a kid that's not quite sure what to do when sad. He swallowed his guilt and his anger before he tilted his head back against the wall. And damn it all, Charles was showing him compassion all the while. He heard how the man smashed his own record. How could he ask more of Charles, how could he be so selfish to cry about...

"I don't know." He ends up saying, shoulders lifted and fell all in one breath.

"Ah." As if it were so _simple_. Maybe there isn't a proper or correct response to something like this. Maybe Charles knows there isn't an answer that can fix it, not really...

"You know," Charles continued, "When I was in trouble here, I'd take to music. Much like you took to him." There isn't a name but BJ knows.

"Yeah." BJ wrings his hands together, fingers too sore and too rough.

"I may not hold the same warmth I did once for my music," still in hushed tones, "But he is your warmth. And you're his. That will never change. No matter where one goes, my dear Hunnicutt."

BJ lifted his head to look at Charles, his eyelids drooped and his cheeks near wet. He swallowed harder this time, trying to find a way to thank the man somehow or to at least give a just as equal response. Much like before, he can't find any. He let's himself smile, even if just for a moment, and he nods. It's like his breath is heavy and hard but he can barely hear it leave him, it hurts his chest all the way to his toes.

He has to say something though. He's not a poet like Charles, his words aren't fluff and grand and plenty of the late. He reaches out a hand, even that is difficult to do. He tried to ignore how his hand trembles when Charles grabs hold, a handshake follows for far too long. And BJ is grateful for this moment, as short as it would have to be.

"Thank you, Charles." That would have to be enough.

"Of course, Hunnicutt." Their hands pulled apart and the cold fills BJ's palm again.

Goodbye is a seven letter word. It's one word. Their goodbye would be different, he tells himself. It would be a promise BJ would make to himself. It would not be forever. 

Goodbye just means...for now.


End file.
